


You'll Always Be My Favorite Ghost

by PacketofRedApples



Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: It's difficult to take a dead man's job.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	You'll Always Be My Favorite Ghost

Quiet. It was maddeningly quiet. Not a single fly, or working device in the entire sector, everything was calm for the night. The Oldest House was even resting after all this—lessened shifting, nothing substantial in that regard had occurred in days. The only sound was a far off beeping of life support behind so many walls that it was ridiculous to think that in the Director’s office one could hear it. Jesse, however, having spent almost all day in that room, still had the echoes of that lone noise in her head. She was exhausted and in need of rest, herself, but it didn’t matter when there were still matters at hand to deal with in the FBC.

It was… more difficult to be the Director than she had originally anticipated. Sure, the weirdness felt at home, nestling in her psyche as absolutely acceptable. Comforting, even. Knowing she’s not crazy, not really. But—it was a weight of the world pressing down on her. It wasn’t just her she was looking out for, not just her and Dylan… It was the entire City of New York, the entire Country—fuck, it was the entire world, really.

She felt a lack of guidance and explanation now that she had gone through everything she could. There were no more Dr. Darling presentations she could find on the backlog to watch, to comprehend better—not that they were extremely understandable, what with every other sentence being “classified.” There also was nobody else’s mind to pick, which really didn’t help… She asked all the questions she could think of. What she truthfully lacked, is somebody who walked in her shoes. Who knew the ins and outs.

Trench.

She had come to realize she needed the ex-director’s echo appearing in her path, to cryptically explain. To relay what it was like as a frame of reference. The older Faden sibling missed it to some degree. As annoying as it could be at times, it held a level of importance to her. A sentiment her brother surely would not share.

Jesse leaned back into the chair behind her desk, placing the service weapon on it. She’s been too heavily stuck in the cycle of ruminating what would be the correct way to progress, the Oldest House needed somebody who cared and understood for it, somebody who would build a relationship with it. And in the end—Control it. Best they could, at least. But at times, Jesse wondered why didn’t she just ask Ahti… He knew more than he led on, but it was difficult to get a word out of him, let alone unambiguous.

Taking out the pin from her hair, she lets the locks fall to her shoulders and then presses against the skin on the back of her neck, cooling the tense muscles. Her fingers were ice-cold, as she entered the office, but she brushed it off. It always has been cool in this place, perhaps unusually so, but she sighed and let it be. Tonight, like any other night for the past few months, she will fall asleep at her desk, pass out to be correct—and then the next morning, she’ll inwardly complain about the uncomfortable feelings that seeped straight to her bones. The first week in, as she was removing Zachariah Trench’s belongings from the room, she had discovered a stash of several bottles of whiskey that at the time felt heaven-sent. But their content seemingly evaporated faster than she could have ever anticipated for somebody who drank alone. She misses that now, as well.

Faden huffed, then looked around the office that boasted no real personality, even with her occupying it.

“Why can’t this be easier…?” She mutters under her breath, tired.

Suddenly to her surprise, the coat rack in the far end of the room falls over, causing her to almost jump at the sudden motion, alarming her so badly; she almost grabbed her gun and shot at it. Thankfully, she did not. It would have been awkward to explain to Emily in the morning… Probably would have also upset the house.

Annoyed, the current Director stood from her chair and dragged herself to the fallen furniture, picking it up and placing it back upright. She looked around the large chamber now, trying to figure out what could have caused this… But she couldn’t figure it out… The hell was this even? A lame protest by The Oldest House?

Jesse returned to her desk and suddenly noted the paper and pen resting on the top. A note, written in unfamiliar handwriting.

‘Nobody said being director was simple. But you’ll handle this.’

What the hell…


End file.
